


Mission Trip

by Lidsworth



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of an accident, Asami wakes up with a severe case of amnesia. With his memories of Takaba gone, and enemies of the Yakuza working to split both businessman and photographer apart, will their love prevail? Or was it even love to begin with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Trip

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As he walked slowly to the hospital room, his heart bounced around his ribcage like an angry sea-urchin. His every step caused an unbearable anguish to flare in his entire being, and at random times, he fought the urge to turn around and run away.

Save for the time he'd been shot by Fei Long, Takaba had never seen Asami in a weak light, meaning he tended to hold his Yakuza to be invincible.

He knew it was rather silly, believing something so cheesy, but due to Asami's hectic life, he liked to trick himself that at the end of the day, the man would always come home unscathed.

However, this was not the case, and though he denied it for the majority of his prolonged relationship, Asami coule be, and had been seriously injured.

Whatever accident had befallen the crime lord, had been so bad, apparently, that Kirishima didn't even personally escort Takaba to the hospital.

The phone conversation between both Secretary and Photographer had been short and rushed. Kirishima only supplied Takaba with the address of the hospital, and the information that Asami had been seriously injured.

Why should I even care, he had humorously asked himself, Why do I even care?

He was at odds with himself.

His confusion stretched far about mind, like the North Pole and the South Pole.

One part urged him to stay away from Asami, to turn this catastrophic page in his life once and for all. And as always, the other part urged him to do the exact opposite, and for the first time in forever, warned him that this may be the last time he saw Asami.

Asami and Akihito both lived their lives addicted to the thrill, despite this, Death had rarely crossed Takaba's mind, at least not when regarding Asami.

Death and himself, however, as a different story.

When Asami had captured him, he's obtained more than Akihito's heart. He'd stolen his sanity. Every ounce of it balanced on Asami's being, his survival, and his life.

Takaba could die, but Asami had to survive, no matter what. He had to live, because without Asami, Takaba couldn't do it.

Without Asami, Takaba could not live. It was a sad compromise, but it was what Takaba had become.

And though part of him warned him to run, he happily shoved it to the darkest depths of his mind. If he himself wanted to live, then he needed Asami to be alive, to be breathing, to be fighting.

Than after that, he could leave, and their quirky cycle could resume once again.

His mind chatter had blindly led him before the door of the white hospital room.

He brought a shaky hand up to the cool knob, and braced himself for what he was going to see. Whether maimed, bruised, or broken, Takaba would accept Asami no matter what. The man had literally stolen his heart, and abandoning it was not an option.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

With confidence built, Takaba twisted the knob and strode into the room.

His tunnel vision had directed his gaze quickly to the bed that resided near the center of the hospital room, where Asami lay sleeping.

Disregarding the figures lined up against the wall, who had been stunned by his sudden appearance, Takaba ran straight towards Asami, his heart beating frantically throughout his chest as he did so.

The photographer stood above the bed, and slowly took in the form below him.

Asami was pale, deathly pale. His hair was blown messily across his face, the way Takaba liked it.

He bore a peaceful expression, and Takaba concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest.

He'd been changed into more comfortable clothing, and the thick sheets were neatly wrapped around his body.

There weren't many machines he'd been hooked up to, only one in his wrist, but other than that, nothing else.

Takaba sighed a sigh of relief. For just a moment, it was only he and Asami in the small hospital room, he had to deal with no else...if only.

Turning around, he searched for Kirishima in the miniature crowd that had formed in Asami's hospital room. Against his better judgemnet, he assumed these "extra's" were business partners of the Asami, perhaps friends, but other than that, they didn't peak his interest.

He hardly even cast them a second glance.

It was Kirishima he was looking for, Kirishima who would update him on the situation.

Like magic, he found him leaning on the wall, making a hushed phone call, most likely to another business partner of Asami's.

Quickly, he strode over to him, and with a fury, grabbed at the man's suit jacked, and interrupting his phone call.

Takaba's gaze was full of anger, anger directed at the man who was supposed to protect Asami.

"What the hell happened?" he hissed, "You're supposed to be his damn bodyguard, why the hell does he look like a corpse?!"

Kirishima sighed and ended his phone call, "Takaba, calm down. It was a freak accident, do you think I intended to let something like this happen?"

"What do you mean "freak accident"?", completely disregarding questioned directed towards him, Takaba pressed for more answers, "Did one of his enemies try to kill him?!"

By now, the worry was evident in his voice, and he was sure that hot tears had welled up in his eyes.

His own father had been the victim to a "freak accident", and by the grace of God, he managed to pull through...it was terrible, a terrible bloody mess, and Takaba could not even fathom Asami being in the same situation.

"It wasn't anything terribly serious, so you can calm down. While normally, I wouldn't so easily provide you with information regarding Asami, I think now, I can oblige. We were-"

"And who," one of the members of the crowd spoke, and Takaba's grip on Kirishima loosened instantly, as he turned to see who the interrupter was, "are you, to be warranted such important information?"

She was tall, and absolutely gorgeous. Pale and cunning, she mirrored Asami almost identically, had it not been for certain features being slightly off, he would have assumed this to be Asami's twin sister.

"I'm-"

"No one important, just look at his clothing," from behind her came another figure dressed smartly like Asami normally was. Unlike the other, however, his hair hung messily in his face, almost obscuring his eyes. His hand's were buried in his pocket, and his dark gaze pierced Takaba's soul, "You look like a dirty puppy, just helpless...what business do you have with our brother? Surely, you must be the cleaning lady."

I kind of am...Takaba thought weakly, feeling slightly intimidated by the wealthiness in front of him.

Like he assumed, these were Asami's siblings, they looked exactly like him.

they were slightly younger, but that hardly deterred their distaste for him.

"Ah, let me introduce you," Kirishima adjusted his glasses and stepped away from the puzzled photographer, "Isadora Asami, Asami's younger sister," he motioned to the beautiful woman standing before him, "And Hideo Asami, Asami's younger brother."

Hideo snorted, still baffled by Takaba's appearnce, "And you would be_"  
"Takaba Akihito," he introduced himself before Kirsihima could slander his title anymore than he had himself, "I'm Asami's assistant."

"And i'm his father," Takaba jumped at the harshness of the voice that seemed to come from nowhere, and nearly yelped when he saw the ageless being.

Hardly a touch of grey had lightened this man's hair, and his face was nearly free of wrinkle's, save for the areas around his eyes.

Like his children, he dressed rather expensively, and smartly. His suit was well tailored and dark, most likely mirroring his gaunt personality.

He bore a striking resemblance to all of his children, and sported the same golden eyes that Asami did. Accept, his gaze was crueler and stern. Takaba felt trapped under a microscope as these three beings burned holes into his soul.

It didn't help that Kirishima had moved away from Takaba, therefore, leaving him alone, on his own.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing a red-faced, panting young woman_who, like the others in the room, bore a air of prestige.

However, she wasn't related to Asami, at least not as far as Takaba could tell.

Her heels clicked on the floor as she entered the room, roughly brushing past Takaba and almost knocking him off of his feet, as she made her way to the bed.

"Ryuichi..." her voice was tight as she breathed his name. Slowly, she leaned over the bed, and gently stroked his face.

Takaba stiffened at the gesture, and moved forward to stop it. But a quick reality check, and Mr. Asami's glance from behind him told him to stay put.

The siblings' gazes softened at the act committed by the woman, and they moved forward to comfort her.

Her shoulders shook slightly as she looked at the figure in the bed, and a trail of tears began to slowly fall down her cheeks.

"It's okay Kotomi," Hideo placed a warming hand on her shoulder, "he'll be okay."  
"Why..." she whispered, "if he only listened to me...and..and stopped all of this, than may-"

"It was a freak accident," against his better judgment, Takaba chimed in to the private conversation, "None of his enemies attacked him."  
She straightened up, obviously offended by his outburst.

"Who are you? I've known Ryiuchi for years, and I know what he does! You don't know anything about him," she hissed, "Don't act like you do."

Boiling with rage, Takaba made to counter her claim, "Actu-"  
"Don't worry about him," Isadora cut him off, "he's just...a cleaning boy."

As if a light had been turned off, this Kotomi went back to ignoring Takaba, and back to oogling over an unconscious Asami.

"Maybe we can start over, Ryu," she said quietly, but loud enough for Takaba to hear, "just you and me...again."

TO say Takaba was baffled was an understatement, to say he was petrified_That about nailed it.

Even Mr. Asami, who had remained emotionless during the duration of his stay, had made his way to the crying woman, and attempted to comfort her.

While not crying outwardly, Takaba's insides were filling with tears.

Tears of embarrassment, tears of anger, tears of sadness...but he would never let these goons see him cry, that would be the end of him!

He wanted to walk_proudly walk over to the bed, he wanted to place his hand on Asami's face, stroke his cheek until he woke up, and he wanted to be there for Asami.

But it would cause too much confusion, their relationship was too dangerous, and obviously very secretive.

Ha...he hasn't even told his family about me...has he? Takaba mirthlessly joked with himself, as he debated on whether to remain frozen in place, or to go and claim what was his.

But it seemed the latter was not winning. Unintentionally, he felt like he didn't belong in the frame.

Kirishima had phoned Asami's own family before he had contacted Takaba, and in addition, requested this woman as well.

They all seemed very familiar with Asami, very comfortable, and very relaxed around him. Depending on the day, Takaba was neither of those around the Crime Lord, and was in fact, always trying to escape from Asami.

Not because he was scared, but because he loved to give his rear a break.

A chilling thought crept within his mind as he watched the scene before him. Had this Kotomi, perhaps, been like Takaba at a time, had she been an object of Asami's?

Maybe even more...

A shuffling from the bed had disrupted his train of thought, and suddenly, even the wallflower, Kirishima, had migrated to the bed side.

Screw these people, I do know Asami! He reaffirmed himself as he marched to the bedside, and rudely shoved his way through the crowd of rude people.

He ignored the ugly looks they cast at him, and instead leaned over to Asami's bed, nervously anticipating his wake.

Suddenly, Kirishima had stepped out to get the doctor, leaving Takaba alone with the Asami's and Kotomi.

If Mr. Asami, or the others had any intent of inject ill conversation into the moment, then they were swiftly dissuaded when Asami's eyes slowly fluttered opened.

Everyone around the bed seemed to be holding their breaths, and even Kitomi was silent as the form below them wriggled out of his thick cocoon of sheets.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Takaba moved closer to Asami's side and helped him sit up, as he was obviously disoriented due to his sudden wake up.

The others behind Takaba made small noises of protest at his actions, but he didn't let that stop him.

Asami was his, he didn't care what anyone else said or thought...he was all his.

However, Takaba didn't miss that deep gaze that Asami had cast at him during their small exchange.

It wasn't as if Asami hadn't looked at Takaba before, but this was different.

His eyes were staring directly into Takaba's soul, dissecting his very being, delving deeper and deeper into him.

It was unsettling, almost scary, so scary that Takaba had to look away as he sat the older man up. He looked at the others, but only for a while, and as expected, his gaze returned to Akihito.

"Ryiuchi..." Kotomi began, earning a quick glance from the disoriented man, but as quickly as it happened, it ended.

He was back to looking at Akihito.

Kotomi gasped in disbelief, and Takaba fought the urge to smirk. That's right, back of bitch...He triumphantly thought.

Not even Asami's siblings, or his father could stop him from staring the photographer down...

"Asami...it's me," tired of the awkwardness of the moment, Takaba began to speak, "Akihito...what happened to you?"

the tenderness of his voice did not go unnoticed by the entourage behind them, and Takaba was not deaf to their sounds of disappointment. Yet he continued with the talk, he needed this more than any of them did, even the crying Kotomi.

"Are you okay...?"

Asami looked at him and tilted his head slightly, his dark hair falling in his face as he did so.

Takaba's face reddened at the look, but he forced his emotions away to ensure Asami's well being.

When the older man did not answer a second time, he tried for a third.

"Asa-"  
"Who are you?"

Four times, he'd been either directly or indirectly asked that question, in less than an hour.

And now it had been a fifth.

Though unlike his peers, Asami's voice was laced with no malice or hate, scorn of crudity, just curiosity.

And a little bit of confusion.

The shock came seconds later, and Takaba felt the life draining from his body...Asami didn't remember him.

"It's me...i'm..." but what could he say? I'm the photographer that you have sex with every night? Of course not...he just couldn't.

"You're what?" Asami inquired, his silky voice deep and leveled, like always, "Do I know you? In fact, I don't think I know myself th-"

Kotomi swung her arms around Asami's massive build before he could continue, and buried her face in the crook of his neck, "It's alright Ryo," she sniffled, "we're here, we'll help you?"  
"I don't know you either," he said, as he gently removed her from around him and looking at the people above him, "or any of you."

"We're your family," Isadora began, "I'm your younger sister, and this," she pointed to Hideo, "Is your younger brother."

"And I'm your father," the older man kindly addressed, "and we're all here to help you how we will."

Asami nodded, quite accepting of his situation, despite his memory loss.

"But what about him," he looked to Takaba, "he seems so...familiar...who are you to me?"

Your lover, your boyfriend, your sex toy, your kitten, your secret, your-

"Cleaning boy, I think," Hideo quickly supplied, "He takes care of the things around your...it's been years since i've actually seen you, what do you live in?"

Takaba was speechless, as nothing, absolutely nothing he could say would help him now. He and Asami, as far as he was concerned, were a secret. Asami never told anyone about him, and Takaba never told anyone about Asami.

Granted, the only ones who knew about the two were Fei Long, Mikhail Arbatov and Asami's two trusted bodyguards.

But Kirishima wasn't willing to stand up for him, Suoh was nowhere to be found, and Fei Long and Mikhail were hundreds of miles away.

He stepped back quickly, as the family got closer, as they put on a greater lie..Kotomi had resumed her place next to Asami, and had happily proclaimed herself as a childhood friend, but Takaba was not stupid.

He knew exactly what she was hinting at.

The doors opened swiftly, and in came Kirishima, with the doctor on his tail. He stepped further back to give them their space, and sighed when Kotomi let go of Asami in order to let the physician evaluate his patient.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Looks like that falling pot took a tougher toll than we imagined," the doctor began, returning fifteen minutes after the initial test, "it appears Asami-sama has been diagnosed with severe memory loss. His cat scans show major brain injury."

Everyone but Takaba gasped, he was still stumped at Asami's reaction towards him.

He knew it wasn't the Crime Lord's fault, but the fact that Takaba had been forgotten hurt like hell...and now he was barely hanging on to Asami.

Obviously, the family did not like Takaba, and Kotomi seemed to loath him the most...and with this development...Takaba would be out of the way in no time.

Though he never missed a chance to steal a glance at Takaba, Asami was deep into conversation with the people around him.

In a relationship composed completely of sex, there was little Takaba could say to Asami at the moment. Especially in public.

"How long will it last," Mr. Asami asked the doctor, "will he ever recover?"

"It could take years before he remembers," the doctor began solemnly, "a case as severe as this...I haven't seen in ages...try to reintroduce old things to him, but do so slowly, perhaps it will bring back memories, but with cases like this, we can never be sure."

"Don't worry, Ryu-kun," Kotomi reassured the older man, "You'll be okay."  
Asami looked slightly irritated as she leaned so closely on him, but let her remain nevertheless.

Takaba stood in the corner, avoiding the conversation and avoiding the gaze.

He felt hurt and betrayed.

The happiness was overwhelming, the joy was sickening...he wanted to leave.

He needed to leave.

And he did.

Quickly, he turned on his heels and darted out of the door. Speed walking down the hallway, he darted into an elevator seconds before it closed, and waited impatiently on the wall as the other occupants selected their floors.

Once towards the bottom, he sped out of the metal box, into the waiting room, and outside into the parking lot.

With no car, or motorcycle, he made run for it...

The cool winder wind blew on his face. Small speckles of frost brushed his skin, and perhaps froze his tears.

Faster and faster he ran. Past cars, past people, past buildings...he ran until his lungs burned, until his legs ached, until he could run no more.

He sought his refuge on a park bench, just underneath a tree.

He didn't care that his feet had gotten wet during his insane sprint and that he could no longer feel them, didn't care that he didn't have a jacket on, or that his eyes were burning...he just didn't care.

The sobbing came as expected, and it was a cruel and vicious sob.

He didn't deserve to be forgotten, he didn't! He would have rather been dumped then forgotten...but the world was just that evil.

Burying his head in his hands, Takaba let all his pain and frustration out.

"Mission trip volunteers needed! Physicians needed, journalist needed, cooks needed, photographers needed!" a piercing voice had yanked him out of his misery, and slowly, he looked at the newly formed crowd of youths that had invaded his serenity.

Even though Takaba was clearly the only occupant in the park, besides this group, they all began to call like more people were their.

They were obviously confused.

"Mission trip volunteers needed!"

"Physicians!"

"Engineers!"

"Carpenter!"

"Builder!"

"Journalist!"

"Photographers!"

He looked up at the last mention, and unintentionally, caught the eye of one of the screaming members. Despite Takaba's ugly demeanor, the young man trotted over towards the photographer, oblivious to the pain he'd just been subjected to.

"We need volunteers to go with us to Iran and other war torn countries_but we also help with relief groups, we're with a church," he began, taking a seat by Takaba, "but you don't have to be religious or anything like that, you just need to want to build an orphanage...hey, are you okay?"

So the man finally caught on...though his looks had temporarily distracted Takaba from his sorrow.

This man looked no older than Takaba, though bore distinctive differences.

His hair was an array of colors, unnatural colors that ranged from green to blue, purple to red, and any other color in the rainbow.

He was pale, with dark eyeshadow, and piercings going up both of his ears...not to mention, his hair had been spiked with gel.

"You must be cold," he inferred, removing his own black coat and draping it over Takaba, "here, borrow mine, I have another one at home."

Takaba gasped at his arms. Tattoo's covered the pale skin like splatter paint.

In all honesty, it looked like an artist had thrown up over this strange, yet familiar figure.

Despite his outlandish features, something about his eyes looked familiar...and not to mention...the facial structure.

Had he seen him in the paper? Takaba coudl've sworn he looked like a model or something.

"-in a couple of weeks, but you can always chose the next one. You'll have to sign your own waiver, because you could die you know_Don't worry, i've been many times, and i've only gotten stabbed and grazed by a bullet. And, I am deaf in my left ear...but that's because a bomb when off close to me, but that was in another country...so what do you say, will you think about it? Oh, and sometimes we go with the ARMY, but the American one. But they're pretty nice-"

"Yes!" the answer sorta came out, and Takaba had no control of it...he wanted to go back it, but the look in this man's eyes told him otherwise, it told him to continue to say yes, to believe in himself.

You're more than a cleaning boy, you're more than what Asami's world makes you out to be.

Not only that, but this gaze told Takaba that this colorful youth could relate to what the photographer was going through, and if not to that extent, could relate somehow.

And above all else, the gaze told him that things, despite the situation with Asami, despite his terrible relatives, were going to be okay.

"Yes," he repeated, slightly more leveled, slightly more in-tuned with himself, "Yes, i'll consider."  
"Great," the younger man patted him on the shoulder and stood up, "I'm Keichi Shuu, by the way...and here's the booklet," he fumbled in the back pocket of his dark jeans, and pulled out a small booklet, "This has all you need to know in it," he waved a hand as he began to walk away, no doubt to wrangle more nonexistent volunteers, "Oh, and keep the coat!"

Takaba watched as Keichi ran into the distance, hands in his pocket, and calling out. Members from his group did the same, following him further into the wooded areas.

He looked at the small booklet, and put it in the large coat pocket.

Sighing, he stood up and tightened the warmth around him.

If he wanted to even consider this mission trip, he needed to survive...meaning, he needed to go back home to Asami and his rude entourage.

He didn't even know what he was doing. Too may conflicts were tearing him apart from the inside.

But for certain, he would not lose Asami to Kotomi, no matter what, he could not.

Even if all the odds were against him...he couldn't lose Asami.

Because, if he lost Asami, he would most defiantly lose himself.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Thankfully, neither Mr. Asam, Kotomi, nor Asami's snidey siblings were around when he a returned to the Penthouse. Though their presence remained.

He could see clothing and food, and as expected, the place was a mess.

Commence the cleaning boy, Takaba thought helplessly, as he waddled to the sink and began to clean the dishes. His body was aching from his spirited sprint, thus it hurt to move around quickly.

He wanted to sleep, but this place was such a mess. Asami would not be pleased if he woke up to a mess.

"Is this all you do for me?" Asami asked, from his position against the wall.

Takaba gasped, he hadn't even noticed Asami.

"I-uh...well, what do you remember?" Takaba began, unwilling to spill his guts to Asami, he didn't need him telling his family.

"I told you," Asami moved besides Takaba, "I don't remember anything, but you must be important to me."  
Takaba blushed at the close proximity, and looked away to avoid suspicion, "Well, I'm certainly more than a cleaning boy."

"A secretary then? I think I own a business, though I'm not entirely sure," he started, "or an assistant?"

"Photographer," Takaba corrected, "I'm a photographer."

"Hmm...what business would you have around me, it seems like you'd be nothing short of a nuisance,"he chided teasingly, "So really, what are you to me?"

The sheer seriousness in the last phrase had unsettled Takaba, yet reminded him that the Asami he knew was not dead, but very much alive.

Behind those confused golden eyes, was the man that would dominate Takaba in mere seconds.

"I really don't know, what I am to you," he did not lie either, he was completely unsure of what to say, "I would like to think...think that we were..."  
"Were what, do not be afraid to speak," Asami leaned in, "Just say it. I want to know."

Were we ever lovers, or did you just use me. What you were to me...was it what I was to you? Did you love me Asami?

"Are you a selective mute-" Takaba had cut Asami off swiftly, and against his judgment, had locked lips with the man above him, no doubt taking him by surprise.

If there was anything other than a blow job that Takaba could give to Asami to make him remember, it was a kiss.

He closed his own eyes, completely unsure if Asami had done the same. He didn't care though, he just needed this, he wanted this, and Asami needed it to.

Or so he would like to believe.

For the need of oxygen, he broke his kiss, and stepped back, staring into the confused eyes of Asami.

He paled.

God...he doesn't remember me...he doesn't fucking remember me...

"Akihito..." he breathed, his voice distant and confused, lacking all sense of confidence.

But he, Asami, said Takaba's name, he said his name.

"Yes...yes! It's me, Akihito! It's me!" his voice cracked with sadness and joy, "I'm Akihito...i'm you-"

"Why don't you just clean up this mess?" Kotomi had crept on them, when, Takaba didn't know. But she had, and though he was unsure of she had witnessed the exchange between them, their close proximity angered her greatly.

"Asami, come to bed," she reached to him, and gently grabbed his arm, "Come, you need to rest, and you_" she glared at Takaba, "need to clean! Now!"

The pure disdain in her voice unsettled him.

Asami locked his gaze on Takaba, even as Kotomi led him out of the kitchen.

Though Asami didn't remember him completely, the sheer mention of his own name had sent shivers down his spine...perhaps he had a chance. No, you do have a chance, don't let that bitch take what's yours.

He shook his hands out, and pulled out the booklet from his coat pocket.

Join our Mission Trip.

Visit an array of places. Experience life through the eyes of others.

He flipped the page to the various locations they visited, and aided.

Iran, Iran, Afghanistan, Cuba, Venezula, Haiti, North Africa, and Venezuela are just some of the places we visit...he sighed, this was a death wish, and these kids were crazy.

But so was he. Maybe, if things with Asami went to hell, he'd actually, truly consider.

For now, however, all that mattered to him was Asami and the small possibility that he did remember him, that he could be happy again.

He pushed the Mission Trip to the back of his mind.


End file.
